Drugged

Don’t freak out y'all. I'm having a writing crisis.

I don't know why I’m writing these types of stories, I just feel like no one liked the other stories.

Oh well, their loss. 

TW: language, substance abuse(?) and other stuff that I can't really explain.

That feeling, the one where you wake up and are still tired. The one that doesn't go away until you have a cup of coffee, or you go for your morning run.

That's how I feel right now.

My eyes open as I feel the bed shake. I dart up, my brain running in circles, to see a man bouncing his knee as he sits on the bed.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I can confirm that he wasn't doing what I thought he was doing.

I'm not wearing my clothes, they don't smell like me. I wear an oversized white Miami hoodie and nothing else. Not even underwear.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask, pushing up against the headboard. 

He looks at me, his eyes boring into my soul. The color of them is a vibrant gray, and it contrasts well with his short spiked black hair.

“My name’s Cohen,” he looks at me, disgusted. “My brother dropped you off here.”

“Your brother?”

“Camden?”

I think about the name, but nothing rings a bell. No Camdens or Cohens that I know of until now…

“Tell me the truth.”

“That is the truth. He just dropped you off and said to keep you here. I don't know why.” Cohen says with a facial expression that makes me trust him more.

I curl up into a little ball and clutch my sides. “I'm cold.” I say.

He throws me a blanket and lies down on the bed, right next to me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, scooting away and he smiles, looking down. 

“I'm going to sleep. Don't expect me to sleep on the floor, that's not how I do it.” He closes his eyes.

I stare at his eyelashes, which are the most feminine part about him. He has a strong jawline, and a nice, tall and stocky build.

“How do you do it then?” I ask, testing him. He turns over and groans, getting up. 

“Rule number one, when I’m trying to sleep, you don't interrupt. Got it?” he growls.

I pull away defiantly. “And why should I care?” I ask like a little child.

Cohen glares at me. “Because while I might look nice, I can be your worst fucking nightmare.” he responds, turning over and throwing a blanket over his head.

I lie down, getting into a pissy mood. “Worst fucking nightmare-” I mutter, and in one second, he grabs me and pins me to the bed.

“I told you to shut the hell up and yet you keep going?” he asks, one hand on my wrist and the other on my waist, holding me down.

“Let me go-”

“No. You're acting like a disrespectful little bitch. I let you into my home, no questions asked and you act like this. You should be the one sleeping on the floor for all I care.”

“Don't you think,” I start, looking up at him. “You should know my name before you try to kill me?”

His eyes widen and then narrow.

“It's Elise.”

He stares off, and than grabs a fistfull of my blond hair and balls it up. 

“Let me sleep.” He lets go and lies on the bed.

He turns over, leaving the back of his neck exposed. I lie down than scoot closer, waiting for the right timing…

My arms wrap around his neck and I pull hard, trying to get him to go unconscious, but he pushes me back and wraps my arms around his torso, holding them there.

What the hell…

“Elise. Don't ever try that with me again.” I hear a click, and a pair of handcuffs appear around my wrists, keeping Cohen and I up against each other.

I pull hard, slamming my wrists against his rock hard stomach. He turns and looks at me, not amused.

“What's wrong baby girl?” he asks.

“I'm not-”

“You are now.”

He turns around and faces me while my arms are still around his torso.

“Let me go.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Asshole.”

He grins. “Better keep your mouth shut.”

He reaches his hand under my sweatshirt and instead of him going for the place I think he’ll go for, he puts his hand on my lower back.

“I just met you, but I have this feeling…an urge to keep you safe.”

I push myself closer, surprising myself 

I only just met this guy. I don't even know how I got here.

“If my brother is dropping you now, something must have happened. You're in deep right now.” he says, eyeing the clock above the bed.

My brain keeps searching for a reason why I was with his brother.

And than Cohen puts his hand in the dip of my waist, and it feels all too familiar.

“Dance baby girl!” a voice shouted. I stumbled around the private club, with a drunken smile. I put my hands in the air and moved my hips, feeling my dress ride up. Someone, somewhere, handed me another drink and I downed it, not stopping to think about my self control.

And then everything got dizzy. I stumbled into the group of men who were sitting at the table, the ones who told me to dance.

One of them put his hand in the dip of my waist before I passed out completely.

I stare at Cohen, wondering how he doesn't remember me.

“I know you.”

He laughs. “No you don't. We just met.”

` I start to shake. “No, no I know you. And I know…I know…”

“Elise calm down, I’m so confused-”

“A private club…dancing…one of you drugged my drink. One of you-” my mind races. They could have done anything.

“Private club…oh shit.” he looks at me, recognition all over his face. “Elise…”

“What happened? What did you guys do?” I asked quietly, still pressed up against him. 

“I have no idea, Camden wouldn't tell me or let me into where he was taking you.” he says.

My spirit seems to leave my body, and I feel cold. They could have done everything they wanted and I wouldn't even know…

“Camden is an asshole. Don't think about him.” Cohen says, tightening his hold on me. “And I think you'll be fine. But when Camden wants something hidden, he keeps it hidden. His friends, and him, they know that you would eventually remember.”

“The point?” I ask.

There's a knock at the door, and he grabs the keys to the handcuffs and unlocks them.

“I’m going to keep you safe. And to do that, you and I have to escape.”

“How?”

Cohen looks at the window and back at me, and I know that this is necessary.

Camden and his friends won't stop until I'm dead.